


Composing Hallelujah

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, JayRoy week 216!, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attack, Trans Character, Transphobia, Vomiting, ftm Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8426572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is the smell of something wet and hot for Jason to remember the Pit- and while he's come a long way since his initial anger, even he falls some days. Even he breaks, and needs to be reminded that he's valid, as he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 is "PTSD". I have been meaning to write trans Jason for some time, and this week gave me a chance. I'm actually very thrilled with this one.

There wasn’t always a  _ reason _ for the itch that started, under Jason’s skin. Wasn’t always a cause. Somedays, it was just  _ there _ .

 

Somedays he woke up and he was sure of who he was, who he had always been, where he was  _ now _ . Some mornings started out that good, and then spiraled for no foreseeable reason.

 

Except, he was lying- he  _ knew _ there was always a reason.

 

Now, standing out in the rain, the day shockingly  _ warm _ for fall, watching Lian climb up onto the school bus- it was the stench of hot rain. The smell of it soaking into the earth, that worm-ridden scent. The smell of it wafting up from the drains along the streets. It wasn’t as  _ potent _ as what he remembered, wasn’t the same sour and thick stench he’d once woken up to, that he’d inhaled and swallowed down into his stomach until he thought he’d vomit-

 

But it was enough.

 

He hurried back around the corner, pulling his hood up over his damp hair and keeping his head down. He wanted to get back home, as quickly as possible. Quell the feeling in his gut, while he still had a chance.

 

When he was pulling the door open, however, and he felt the scars along his chest itching, he knew it wasn’t the kind of episode he could just  _ quiet _ . He pulled the door shut, flipped the lock, then simply stood there, fingers still holding onto the metal. He didn’t know where he wanted to  _ go _ , in this house. Wasn’t sure where was even… was even  _ acceptable _ for what he knew was coming on.

 

He bit at his tongue, worried the muscle between his teeth. He finally pulled away, tugging his hoodie up off over his head as he moved quickly, feeling sick. He tossed it blindly into the kitchen, heard it hit  _ something _ and thought maybe it had caught on the chair- and that was good enough.

 

He couldn’t get that smell out of his nose. Each inhale smelled like rot, smelled like that black muck within the pits, that had caked up under his fingernails, hadn’t washed out for a solid week. His hair had reeked of it for two.

 

He stumbled up the stairs, covering his mouth with his hand. His stomach was flipping, and he could feel the acidic burn of bile in his throat. He paused, other hand on the railing, inhaling slowly through his nose, thinking he could make it through this, he wouldn’t be  _ sick _ -

 

But the rot was  _ there _ in memory, and Jason was bounding up the stairs, nearly tripping at the top and not caring. He threw the bathroom door open, fell down so hard onto his knees on the tiles that he felt it ache up in the bone, and leaned over the toilet, stomach heaving. He gagged, the retching sound echoing in the room around him as he vomited. His throat burned and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suck in a breath and having it cut off as it happened again.

 

He got both hands on the toilet, gripping the seat until his knuckles went white, shaking all over as his stomach emptied his entire breakfast. And when there was nothing left and he was panting, sweat sticking to his forehead and spine, it was just that wretched  _ bile _ that burned just as bad as the pit water had. He coughed, forced himself to suck in a breath, leaning back because the sour scent was only making him want to vomit  _ again _ .

 

He tipped his head back, kept his eyes closed, breathed in through his nose. His mouth tasted horrid, but he didn’t dare move yet- knew if he opened his eyes, the room would be spinning. But god, it had spun then, back in those first days, every time he’d opened his eyes.

 

He couldn’t keep food down for a  _ week _ . Everything tasted like the pit and he swore he wanted to cut his tongue out. And when he  _ did _ manage to swallow something, his stomach rejected it within an hour. It was like his body had to  _ relearn _ itself, had to reset and slowly bring each system back, one day at a time.

 

He let go of the toilet seat, hands braced to touch his chest. He hesitated, before he settled them over his tshirt, pressed firm to his chest. The curves of muscle and  _ nothing else _ , no extra flesh- but in moments like this, Jason could  _ forget _ that it was gone now.

 

He swallowed thickly, regretted it because the taste made him grimace. He leaned forward to flush the toilet, telling himself it was okay, it was  _ okay _ -

 

But he could  _ hear it _ , in his head now. Now that it had started, he couldn’t  _ stop _ the memories- when he was a  _ shell _ and he heard and felt but couldn’t act, couldn’t think, articulate. Was boxed up inside his head  _ before _ the pit and couldn’t  _ communicate _ .

 

The whispers, the confusion, the questions of how could  _ this _ be the  _ boy _ wonder.

 

The constant repetition of  _ she, she, she _ . Of  _ girl _ . How he had screamed in his head for everyone to  _ shut up, shut up, shut up _ , and yet his mouth and tongue didn’t know those words. How all the years of self acceptance of  _ confidence _ he’d felt as Robin melted away because people didn’t  _ understand _ what he had kept to himself, what  _ Bruce _ had honored as Jason’s secret until he ever deemed it necessary to share.

 

Jason gripped at his chest tighter, fingers digging into his tshirt. His blunt nails dug at the scars along his chest, years old now- one of the first things he had done, when Talia had cast him off into the world to  _ train _ . How he’d had to take back the confidence he had lost when he couldn’t  _ correct _ the world that saw him as something he never really  _ was _ .

 

He was trembling, digging in so hard that despite his shirt it  _ hurt _ , and suddenly he was coughing, stomach rolling again. He hung his head, let the bile spill from his mouth, his belly cramping up so hard he saw white, behind his eyes. He coughed, gagged again, and he didn’t know what he had left in him, but it was spilling out regardless.

 

He felt like he was suffocating, in that bathroom. He’d left the door open- Roy had been gone for days, so it wasn’t like he was disturbing anyone. But the air still felt stale and heavy. The rain outside was pelting down now, making his head throb. He wanted to lie down, but he didn’t want to  _ move _ .

 

Jason spit, tried to get the thick saliva from his mouth, before he slammed the toilet seat closed and stretched out, right on the tiled floor. He pressed his cheek to it, clung to the  _ cold _ despite the fact that once, he’d woken up so cold he was sure his bones had turned to ice. But the Lazarus Pit- the water was warm, putrid,  _ hot _ in it’s pit, and Jason had far more vivid memories of  _ that _ than he did of clawing his way out from his own grave.

 

He swallowed, kept his eyes shut, began to curl up on himself. It shouldn’t have happened, shouldn’t be happening- it was  _ rain _ and the stink of the city and it shouldn’t have brought this on but… but…

 

Jason whined, reached a hand up and covered his eyes. His head was throbbing now, his skull felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t regulate his breathing. He’d take a few panting breaths and then hold, hold,  _ hold _ , but he couldn’t calm it down. At this rate, he was going to hyperventilate, and he  _ knew it _ .

 

Maybe blacking out was what he needed. Maybe a hard restart to his brain- that sweet black nothing and then he could come to, and this mania would have  _ passed _ . He needed it gone, didn’t like how out of control he felt when he swore he was strapped down, eyelids clipped open as he had to watch, on loop, the worst moments of his life.

 

Not even  _ dying _ , but coming back and wanting to be  _ dead _ because of how  _ wrong _ everyone was…

 

Jason shuddered, tried to grasp at the loose strands of his rational thought. He had to get Lian off the bus at 3:30. He had to make sure he was  _ fine _ by then- he couldn’t have his little girl finding her  _ dad _ a mess, like he was.

 

He wanted to be  _ endless _ for her, wanted to be stone and unbreakable. He didn’t-

 

“Jason?”

 

The voice broke Jason’s thoughts. He cracked his eyes open, his hand falling away and shifted, glanced at the bathroom doorway. Roy was standing in it, seemed to fill it, his green eyes large and staring, and Jason could  _ tell _ he was two seconds from springing into the room.

 

“Fine,” Jason mumbled, just wanting to keep him  _ there _ . Even if a part of him began to crack open, because  _ Roy was home, he didn’t have to be alone _ . Still, Roy took a step in, hurrying to kneel behind Jason, where there was room, reaching out to get a steadying hand on his shoulder.

 

“What happened?” Roy asked, glancing him over, as if he looking to see if he was  _ hurt _ . Jason sucked on his sour tasting tongue, and nearly gagged because his mouth still tasted like vomit.

 

Jason didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to  _ start this _ , and all he could offer in a voice that sounded childlike was, “I threw up.” Roy was quiet for a moment, before he offered the smallest, softest of smiles.

 

“Okay,” he said, his hand moving to rub Jason’s back. Jason knew his boyfriend could feel the sweat, through his tshirt- but he couldn’t shove that hand away. Roy’s touch was  _ grounding _ , pulled Jason away from the thoughts he couldn’t stop, at least added background static to the screaming in his head.

 

Minutes passed, with Roy just kneeling there, rubbing Jason’s back. Jason kept his cheek pressed to the cool floor, half wanting to strip down to his underwear and sprawl out there, to chill himself and the anxious fire in his skin. But then Roy was asking  _ if he could sit up _ , and Jason was slowly pushing himself up. The room spun for a moment, and he slumped over, a hand pressed to his forehead. Roy’s hand moved up to cup the back of his neck, his thumb rubbing the side of it in a slow, soothing manner.

 

Jason swallowed again, grimacing because his mouth tasted so vile, when Roy slowly stood up himself. He pulled away from Jason, and the moment he did Jason missed his touch, sucked in a breath too fast and choked on it and sunk his teeth into his tongue to try and hide the gasp-

 

“I’m still here,” Roy said, before Jason heard the sound of the toilet flushing. He glanced up, past his hand, and Roy has turned back to face him, was offering down a hand. “Here, let me help you up.” Jason reached out, slowly, let Roy’s hand wrap around his. Roy was warm but not in that discomforting way the rain was, the way Jason’s damp skin felt.

 

Roy pulled him up, and when Jason stumbled forward a step, light headed, he simply pulled him to his chest. Jason sighed, tipped his head down and rested it there, as Roy’s arms went around him, splaying on his back and rubbing again.

 

“There, it’s alright. I’ve got you. Where are you, Jaybird?” Jason hiccuped, eyes squeezing shut, fighting back the sting there. “Jay-”

 

“ _ Nowhere _ .”

 

“Baby,  _ where are you _ ?”

 

“The pit,” Jason mumbled, clutching at Roy’s side, grasping his jacket. “I can  _ taste _ it, Roy. I can hear them, I can hear  _ all of them _ . They’re  _ wrong _ .” Jason quaked, down to his very core, and Roy rested his cheek atop his head.

 

“You’re not there now,” Roy offered, “You’re safe. That was a long time ago. You’re  _ home _ , Jason. What’s home, Jaybird?”

 

Jason swallowed. “You,” he whispered, could feel the wet streaks on his cheeks now. “Lian.”

 

“ _ Exactly _ . Look up at me, Jason.” Roy lifted his head so Jason could unfold, stand his full height, stare into Roy’s eyes. Roy reached up, gripping his chin with one hand. “There’s those handsome eyes. What are you, Jason?” Jason said nothing, and Roy’s thumb rubbed his jaw. “Whole,” Roy started for him, quirking his brows, trying to coax Jason to speak.

 

“Whole,” Jason repeated.

 

“That’s it.  _ Good _ . Alive.”

 

“...alive,” Jason offered, and Roy let him slip this  _ once _ .

 

“And?” Jason sighed, and Roy pressed his forehead to Jason’s warm, slightly damp forehead. “The love of my life. My daughter’s father.  _ Dad _ . Say it all with me Jason. What are you?”

 

“Whole. Good. Alive.” Jason swallowed. “Your boyfriend.” He felt his lips twitching over that, watched Roy  _ grin _ . “Lian’s father.”

 

“Yeah. Man of my dreams.”

 

Jason exhaled through his nose, a quiet snort. “Shitty dreams you have, Harper.”

 

Roy’s grin only grew. “There’s my Jaybird.” His hand moved, swiped back through Jason’s hair as he leaned in, kissed his cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you changed and cleaned up, okay? I can think of better places to lay down other than the bathroom floor.” Jason nodded, and Roy turned him, guided him towards the sink. “Brush your teeth and come to bed, okay?”

 

It was, what, ten in the morning now? But Jason couldn’t argue. The floor might have been cool, but his muscle had gone so tight and it was so  _ hard _ it had made him feel stiff. He only nodded, headed for the sink and grabbed his toothbrush, as Roy left him be. He listened, against the sounds of the sink running and then the brush rubbing along his teeth, to Roy’s footsteps across the hall, the sound of their bedroom door opening.

 

Jason focused on the sound of the brush on his teeth. He was still fighting it back, the memories, the ones that made his chest scars itch, made him squeeze his heavy thighs together. He spit into the sink, only to rinse the toothpaste away with a swig of mouthwash- intent on getting the fetid taste from his mouth, at least. When he was done he stared into the mirror for a moment, at his bloodshot eyes, the mess to his hair, the way it stuck to his drying forehead.

 

He looked like hell. Like really shitty unwashed  _ hell _ , and he glanced away, didn’t want to see that. He pushed off the sink, taking quick steps out of the bathroom and heading across the hall. The bedroom door was open, and when Jason paused in it, he found Roy digging through one of  _ his _ own dressers, pulling clothes from it. Jason took a single step in, and Roy turned, smiled at him. He tossed the armful of clothes onto the bed and walked around it, sitting down on the edge and patting the space next to him.

 

Jason walked over, didn’t sit but slotted in perfectly between Roy’s thighs, watched as his boyfriend reached up, got his hands on Jason’s slightly defined hips.

 

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Roy offered, fingers rubbing along Jason’s jeans. They eased along the waist, popped open the button and dragged the zipper down. The sound seemed deafeningly loud, and Jason closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled slowly, as he felt Roy’s fingertips get beneath the waist, felt them brushing his warm skin. “Baby you’re like fire.”

 

Jason said nothing, let Roy peel the jeans slowly down his thighs. He overheated when his attacks set in, like this. He burned with the hellfire he was reborn in, swore the pit water raced up through his veins like acid and ate away at him until he was burning alive.

 

His jeans hit his knees and then fell to the floor. Roy reached for his tshirt now, pushing it up to the dip of his waist. “Off,” he said, softly, and Jason grasped it, tugged it up over his head and let it drop to the floor. Roy stared up at him, splayed his hands on Jason’s belly and eased his hands up, rubbing over every curve of muscle, the trail of hair leading into his boxer briefs-

 

Until his fingertips hit the blatant scars, beneath his chest. Jason sucked in a breath, trembled, and for a moment, there was a flicker in his mind, the thought that this would be the time where Roy echoed every word Jason had heard, when he was as good as  _ brain dead _ and Talia- bless her- was trying to  _ save him _ .

 

How everyone else saw a  _ girl _ where a boy stood.

 

But Roy only smiled, before his hands eased up over them, pressing gently to Jason’s chest. “Your heart’s racing,” Roy said, his thumb rubbing against Jason’s pec. And then he was reaching up higher, grasping Jason’s shoulders and pulling him down. Roy fell back on his back, and Jason nearly lost his balance, got his hands out just in time to catch himself against the mattress, so his entire weight wouldn’t rest on Roy. He stared down, as Roy tipped his head back, pushed his hips up and got his legs wrapped around Jason.

 

And Jason… he  _ knew _ Roy wasn’t trying to start something. Knew that was the furthest from Roy’s mind because he trusted him, because he’d given  _ years _ of his life to this man.

 

He was simply  _ reaffirming _ , with that lazy, sultry smile he offered. “Everything I’ll ever need,” Roy mumbled, “you look good even now.”

 

Jason laughed at that. He laughed when he shouldn’t have been able to even breathe- but that was the power Roy had. That was the pull of  _ support _ that Jason hadn’t known since  _ before _ his death. “I look like hell.”

 

“Hell’s pretty hot, you know.”

 

Jason sighed, dropping his head and resting his forehead on Roy’s shoulder. Roy squeezed his legs around him, the strangest sort of hug, and turned to kiss his hair.

 

“I love you,” he offered, and Jason said nothing, as Roy cupped the back of his head, teased his hair. “Put some clothes on and snuggle with me?”

 

He didn’t have to ask twice.

 

Jason carefully pushed himself up, waited until Roy’s legs untangled from him, before he walked around the bed. Roy had left a pair of his plaid pajama pants and a tshirt he  _ knew _ Jason took, on his bad days. The old one that he’d gotten years back, before they were Outlaws- the stupid red  _ Star City _ tourist shirt that had holes along the hem and some sort of faded oil stain on the back.

 

It was Jason’s favorite because Roy’s scent was embedded in each and every fiber that made it up.

 

Once he’d tugged them on he turned, found Roy has sprawled out on their bed, on his back. He was watching with those eyes that never seemed to get enough of Jason, and Jason felt the muscles in his back and belly beginning to relax. Carefully, he crawled over Roy’s legs, laid out on his back next to him, on top of Roy’s outstretched arm. His hand curled at Jason’s shoulder, fingers rubbing in small little lines.

 

“You can talk about it,” Roy said, “or I can sit here and listen to you breathe- either is just fine with me.”

 

Jason swallowed, rested his hands flat on his belly, if only because he didn’t know where else to put them. “It wasn’t… anything different,” he admitted. Occasionally the panic came from the memories of choking on smoke, of dying with broken ribs and blood in his mouth and hope lingering in his chest.

 

But, more often than not, it was the horrid pit and the  _ dysphoria _ that saturated his year, where he couldn’t leave the shell of his mind.

 

“The rain,” Jason admitted, before he bit back a bitter laugh. “The rain smelled warm and earthy… and the city stank… it just… it made me think of the pit. Stupid, isn’t it?” Roy hummed, rolled onto his side and placed his hand over Jason’s two.

 

“No,” he said, “not stupid.”

 

“ _ Rain _ can’t trigger me, Roy.”

 

“It can because it  _ did _ . And you know it’s not just that. Let me guess, you weren’t sleeping well these past few nights?” Jason was quiet, and Roy sighed. “You know it’s all  _ easier _ to fall into, when you’re tired. When you’ve been run ragged.”

 

Jason sighed, and Roy kissed his shoulder. His hand slid off of Jason’s two, wormed it’s way under his tshirt and slid up, to rest just below his chest. One scar pressed to his palm. Jason’s breath shorted out- but he didn’t ask Roy to move his hand.

 

Most days, his scars didn’t  _ bother _ him. Most days, his body didn’t at all. Even when he was younger, before he’d died when he’d worn binders and lacked these scars, he felt  _ sure _ of himself, of who he was. The world saw a boy because he wanted them to, because it was  _ true _ -

 

Until he was surrounded by a group of people that didn’t know him, didn’t know  _ Jason _ , saw a body that matched their ideal of  _ girl _ more, and for a  _ year _ , despite the screaming inside his head, called him such.

 

Except  _ Talia _ .

 

“Jay,” Roy whispered, coaxing Jason back from his thoughts.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “just… it’s nothing.” Roy didn’t push and Jason was thankful, as he turned, pressed his forehead to Roy’s, as his thumb continued to drag over the scar. When Jason had these episodes, he couldn’t imagine anyone else touching those blatant  _ reminders _ of how easily he had been mislabeled. But with Roy-

 

His touch was just this endless  _ acceptance _ .

 

“What are you doing home?” Jason finally asked, as Roy nuzzled his hair. “I thought tomorrow…”

 

“Finished up earlier. I decided to make the drive home over night instead. Missed you and our babygirl.” A kiss to the bridge of Jason’s nose now.

 

“She’s going to be thrilled.” Roy hummed, and Jason reached up, cupped his cheek. “I’m… glad you’re here. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

 

Roy turned, kissed his palm. “Lian would understand. She’s too smart for our own good. She  _ loves _ you- you’re her father now, you’re stuck with that role.” Jason smiled, and Roy kissed the pad of his thumb now. “But she doesn't have to know. I’ll get her off the bus and tell her you’re not feeling well. We’ll have a night in.”

 

“If you’re home- I haven’t been on patrol in days-”

 

“ _ Jason Peter Todd _ .” Roy sat up, staring down at him. “You are  _ not _ going out tonight. Doctor’s orders.”

 

“Oh, you’re a doctor now?”

 

Roy nodded. “I am. And I’m prescribing a night on the couch in a pile with me and our little bug, with extra blankets and whatever cheesy movies you two decide on.” Roy’s hand skimmed down from his chest finally, pausing on his belly. “And then later, if you… if you need a reminder of how you’re  _ everything _ I’ve ever needed, I’m more than happy to give that.”

 

Jason knew what he meant- he had the image of Roy clinging to him and crying out into his shoulder to muffle the sound, knew the feeling of the harness as it fit snug to his hips and thighs. Knew that whatever Jason wanted, Roy’d give him that night.

 

“And if that’s not what you want, then we can sleep like babies, or we can stay up talking- or we can stare at the ceiling and I can think about how wonderful you are.”

 

Any of those options,  _ all of them _ \- they sounded like heaven, to Jason.

 

“I’ll even order us dinner.”

 

Jason chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Let me cook. Please, it’ll… it’ll be relaxing.” Roy nodded, didn’t argue- and Jason knew this man knew  _ him _ well enough to see the truth. Jason loved cooking, and at the end of a bad spell, when he was pulling himself back together- it was soothing, to be in his element. To enjoy something  _ domestic _ and know he was good at it, and that it was caring for his  _ family _ .

 

“But for now,” Roy offered, laying back down and flopping both his arm and a leg over Jason, “we’re not moving from this bed. Close those pretty eyes, gorgeous. I’ll be here when you decide to open them again.”

 

Jason smiled. And while he wasn’t feeling  _ perfect _ just yet- the worst of the attack was over, he knew. What could have dragged on all day, or even  _ days _ , was cut and tailored to only a single morning.

 

That was the difference a  _ safety net  _ could make. That was what support could do for Jason-

 

It could bring him back from the dark, could remind him that whatever had happened, it was in the  _ past _ . And all he could do was move forward.


End file.
